


Earning His Keep

by halfthewords (Sierra)



Series: citronshipping drabbles [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Gen, M/M, Vignette, more fragments of stories i never get around to finishing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sierra/pseuds/halfthewords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's one more thing Bakura needs from Malik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earning His Keep

**Author's Note:**

> AU AE fic, vague Citronshipping, Thief King Bakura/Malik. Inspired by An Evil Spirit out of the West, which any self-respecting history buff should read. Part of a series to be written someday in the near/distant future, I'm not sure which yet.

* * *

 

As the sun began to set, atop the eastern cliffs, Malik, Bakura and his mercenaries watched the last of the war barges make its way down the Nile, south towards Thebes.

"You've missed your chance," Malik muttered.

Bakura's eyes drifted from the barge, where faint victorious cheering could be heard, to the small flecks of flame that made up the mob at the water's edge. The uprising had been staged by Ay and Ankhesenamun and though they hadn't known it, real assassins had lurked among them. He knew the people that made up the rebels, the beggars and the men whose wealth once depended on the the city, had been instructed to take hostage the Prince, but they were not to spill the Sacred Blood. And all so that Ay could bear down on the city with his standard raised and proclaim himself the hero of the hour.

"This was but one opportunity. More will come." Bakura threw a glance to his men. Seeing their exhaustion, he dismissed them.

Once they were gone, he unstrapped his leather belt and knives, and tossed them over the edge of the cliff.

"I don't suppose you're thinking of doing the same with yourself."

Bakura grunted. "Now isn't the time."

"So when is the time?" Malik questioned. "Once the Prince is crowned, the security surrounding him will be doubled, and you will be recognised after tonight. You killed at least eight of their shield-bearers."

"Better that they know who's coming for his life. I make no secret of my identity. As for the Prince's guard, that's where you are useful." Bakura turned abruptly, and he caught the look of alarm on Malik's face, switching to a new tactic: "For your treason, you are a marked man. If not for me, you would be dead."

"I have done you enough favours to warrant a lifetime of leniency by now," Malik said warily.

"True," Bakura said after a brief silence. "But you will help all the same."

He felt the tension between them rise.

"What am I meant to do?"

Bakura snorted. "It's not what you can do, boy. It's what you _know_."

Malik started fingering the gold bracelets around his upper arm, a nervous habit that Bakura took some satisfaction in. Malik worked better under pressure, when some threat to either himself or his family was present.

"I told you what I know."

"You told me what I wanted to hear," Bakura corrected him, scowling. He stalked forward and grasped Malik by the shoulders, noting the slight fear that crossed his face. "The Prince. When will they coronate him?"

"It will be soon," Malik retorted, trying to fight the hold on him, but Bakura did not falter. "They are trying to restore Ma'at after Akhenaten's madness."

"Keep talking."

Malik growled, "The sooner Egypt has a new royal couple, the better for it to return to the old ways. It is common knowledge; even _you_ must know this."

Ignoring the jab, Bakura stared at Malik intently. "And what of the City?"

"The City of the Aten will most likely be left to rot. All traces of Akhenaten's reign will be erased," Malik said, his eyes going to the city below them. "Thebes will be the new capital."

"And how well do you know the Malkata Palace?"

It was obvious Malik knew where the conversation was headed, for he stopped struggling. "As well as you know the desert."

Bakura let go of Malik, and his laughter was raucous enough that his men, a hundred yards away, looked up from saddling their horses.

"Then Thebes is where we are called!"


End file.
